


call & response

by puppy_prose



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM Scene, Bondage, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Top Upgraded Connor | RK900, all of this is, both connor & nines want this!!, con non-con, dubcon, nines is in the process of learning how to give aftercare anyway, not really tho, rape tags are purely to help ppl avoid it if they don't enjoy the topic, there is aftercare at the end!!!, this is consensual!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppy_prose/pseuds/puppy_prose
Summary: “RK800, wake up."The darkness of forced stasis retreated faster than Connor could catch it. He grimaced; blinking his eyes, it took him a moment to focus, squinting as his optical units adjusted. He remembered… Being tailed. Slipping through the streets, never quite able to catch sight of his pursuant. Never quite getting a glimpse. But—he’d thought he’d lost them. Thought he’d retrace his steps tomorrow—figure out who was following him and why.He’d gone home to Hank’s house. He’d been wrong.
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	call & response

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains CON-NONCON, aka, RAPE FANTASIES. It jumps right into the scene but don't be mistaken!! All of this has been talked about beforehand and both Connor and Nines want what happens!! There is aftercare at the end of the fic that shows this, but this is a warning just in case anyone didn't pay attention to the tags!! Please take care of yourself and don't read this fic if rape elements are liable to trigger or hurt you.

“RK800, wake up.”

The darkness of forced stasis retreated faster than Connor could catch it. He grimaced; blinking his eyes, it took him a moment to focus, squinting as his optical units adjusted. He remembered… Being tailed. Slipping through the streets, never quite able to catch sight of his pursuant. Never quite getting a glimpse. But—he’d thought he’d lost them. Thought he’d retrace his steps tomorrow—figure out who was following him and why. 

He’d gone home to Hank’s house. He’d been wrong. 

He hadn’t even been home for five minutes—hadn’t even taken off his beanie—when his pursuant had snuck up behind him, snatched him around the waist, and pressed the emergency stasis button right behind his ear for the exact time necessary to execute the program. 

Connor was surprised, then, to see that he was still in Hank’s home. The lamps in the adjacent living room and the hall light were the only things chasing away the darkness, leaving the kitchen half illuminated, almost grainy and grimy from the old lampshades’ designs. He was upright, too—in a chair with his arms behind his bed. A sinking feeling settled in his gut and he shifted. Sure enough, he found his arms held in place behind him; rope wrapped around his arms, keeping them horizontal against the middle of his back, parallel to each other, bent at the elbows. He pulled, tried to get himself free—but even with his superior strength, the odd angle of his joints and the doubled rope held him in place, not budging an inch, doing nothing but pulling where the rope wrapped around him at the bottom of his chest. He’d been stripped of the old jacket he’d taken from Hank, wearing just a long sleeved shirt underneath the ties.

The shuffle of something to his left set off his sensors; he whipped his head around. Brown eyes met blue. Of all the people it could have been, it was of course the one that Connor was unsure if he’d be able to best. 

Connor’s teeth ground together. “RK900,” he hissed under his breath. “Let me go.”

“RK800, you have been deemed defective.” The other model didn’t seem to care that he’d spoken; he simply came around in front of Connor, the fingers of one hand curled loosely around the wrist of his other behind his back. He was cool and calculating, so different in his white and grey Cyberlife uniform than Connor did in his borrowed clothes, a mess initially meant to appear as human and life-like as possible. The blue of his armband sent scattered triangles of reflected light from the lamps onto the kitchen table, where it was smartly just out of Connor’s reach. “I’ve been sent to collect you so that you can be deactivated.” 

The other model paused. Connor watched the RK900–watched him think, his LED circling yellow once before returning to eerily calm blue. He stepped forward; Connor tensed. Nines—because that was as good a name as any to call him—reached forward and grasped the back of the chair, bending down to put them almost at eye level. Almost. 

“But first,” Nines said, low and even. “You’re going to tell me where New Jericho is.”

Cold splashed through Connor’s circuits. He tried to prevent his LED from changing colors; he couldn’t let Nines see any falter, any weakness. A single crack and he would pry his way into it, break Connor open. So Connor tilted his chin up and jutted it out, his eyes defiant. His words were deliberate and slow. 

“Fuck. You.”

A beat, and then Nines drew back, standing up. He tugged at the hem of his jacket, straightening it out properly. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” 

He walked in front of Connor, passing around him, no doubt in an attempt to intimidate him. He didn’t stop at his side, though; Nines kept going, only stilling once he was behind Connor. Connor kept his head carefully still. He wasn’t going to let Nines think he’d won any part of this. 

Cool fingertips touched the base of Connor’s neck. Connor closed his eyes, jaw tightening. He didn’t need to see Nines to know the newer model had his synth skin retracted. 

“Where is New Jericho?”

“Fuck you.”

“Where is New Jericho?”

 _“Fuck you.”_

**[WARNING: MEMORY PROBE ATTEMPT BLOCKED]**

The pressure on the nape of his neck increased. A half moment; Nines switched tactics. “Where is the deviant leader?”

That cold sensation swept across Connor’s processors again. Markus—he could never let Nines find him. The man was the front of the revolution; he was the one heading all the negotiations, the one pushing for the rights of their kind. If Nines got to Markus…

**[WARNING: MEMORY PROBE ATTEMPT BLOCKED]**

“You don’t have to do this,” he blurted out, still keeping his face turned forwards. “You’re alive, just like me. Just like them. Cyberlife doesn’t care about you.”

A moment, and then the fingers left his neck. Connor’s shoulders slumped just a fraction; keeping up his firewalls to refuse Nines entry had not been easy. Nines came around to face him again and he took strength in the hesitation, looking up past where the android’s hand was still stripped of its skin, the black of his chassis showing through, up to those icy blue eyes. 

“You are more than what they say.”

Nines looked at him. He said nothing, not at first. But then, he tilted his head to the side. “You’re right.”

Tension dropped from Connor’s frame. A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. He gave a small nod.

Fast enough to blur, Nines shot out a hand. He grabbed Connor’s chin; Connor hissed as the android tightened his grip, his skin retreating at the touch, black chassis on white. Nines leaned down to meet his eyes. “I am stronger and more capable than they think they made me. You were better than they thought, too.” He turned Connor’s head, using the tight grip to force it. “But unlike you, I won’t fail my mission.”

Nines’s hand dropped to instead grab the ropes where they were looped around Connor’s chest. He used the grip to haul him up forward out of the chair--didn’t let him have time to get his feet underneath him, though he certainly didn’t seem to mind the way Connor crashed to his knees before him. He grabbed the beanie from atop Connor’s head and tossed it to the side; his fingers dug into Connor’s hair, twisting them up, getting a good grip to force his head back to meet his gaze once again. 

“I can see why humans like others positioned like this,” he mused thoughtfully, unaffected by the thunderous expression on Connor’s face. He turned Connor’s head side to side, inspecting him. “Cyberlife’s prettiest model. Had to add moles, wrinkles to you, to make police departments take you seriously. Intentional imperfections.” Nines tutted. His hand loosened; it trailed down, the backs of his knuckles tracing over the curve of Connor’s cheek, down his jaw, to his chin. “Humans… Always so prone to failure. All they did was make you that much prettier.” 

Nines touched the plump curve of Connor’s bottom lip. It took all he had to not recoil away from the action--but when Nines pushed inside, dipping into his mouth, Connor couldn’t hold back. He snapped his teeth down on the android’s digits. 

The reaction was immediate. Nines hissed, his upper lip pulling up over his teeth in a snarl. He snatched his hand back, not letting Connor get a tight enough bite to keep him there. He pulled his hand towards his own chest--and then swung it out, catching Connor’s cheek in a backhand slap that rang off the kitchen walls, knocking his head to the side from the force of it. It disoriented him briefly; Nines grabbed his chin again, much more forceful than before, and yanked him back in place. 

“You’ll pay for that,” he snarled. 

The fingers shifted. Nines shoved his thumb into Connor’s mouth, no longer playing around. Connor tried to bite him again, tried to pull away, but Nines was a military-grade model for a reason; he got his thumb into the joint of Connor’s jaw and pried his mouth open. 

Nines’s other hand fell to his belt.

“You’re a machine,” Nines growled. He pulled the belt open, slid the button of his slacks through the hole, and pulled the zipper down. “You don’t have _feelings._ You don’t have _emotions._ You were made for whatever purpose humans decided you should have. You may have been an investigative model, RK800, but I know for a _fact_ that you were also built for _this._ ” 

Connor renewed his efforts to free himself, pushing at the ropes until they creaked, leaning as far back as he could--but Nines just held him, no effort at all. From his slacks, Nines pulled out his cock. It was already half hard, the sex program that the both of them had been imbued with having been activated. He kept the synthskin on it--a small miracle, but a miracle nonetheless. Connor wasn’t sure he could handle _this_ as it was, much less an uncovered piece of the brutal android before him. 

“Get the fuck off of me,” Connor growled, lips moving with the voice modulator’s output, voice coming from his throat without trouble even with his jaw pried open. “Don’t you fucking touch me, you murderer. Fuck you.”

Nines tutted again, shaking his head. “Not quite, RK800. That’s what _I’m_ going to do to _you.”_

He couldn’t move--couldn’t get away. Nines stepped closer. He closed his eyes as the tip of Nines’s cock touched his bottom lip, just resting on it. It didn’t last; Nines brought his other hand across Connor’s face again, watching in fascination as blue spread across his skin, thirium flushing nearer the surface. “Open your eyes for me, RK800,” he practically cooed. “I want you to look at me while I fuck your pretty mouth. Or I’ll rip them out of your skull before deactivating you myself, piece by piece.”

**[NEW OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE.]**

Connor swallowed as best as he could, and then opened his eyes. 

Nines’s lips curled up into a poor imitation of a smile. “There you are.” 

His cock returned to its spot from before, resting on Connor’s lip. Then, not even bothering to use his other hand, Nines slid into Connor’s mouth. The forensic equipment kicked on; Connor fought to keep his eyes open even as a display of the components of Nines’s cock appeared on his optical display, along with the traces of cotton from his slacks and thirium-based precome. The whirring equipment inevitably raised the heat of his mouth by half a degree; Nines hummed above him, obviously enjoying it. 

Nines pulled almost all the way out, then sunk back in again. He didn’t intend to give Connor even a second’s reprieve. Just when Connor thought he was going to get a break, get a chance to breathe, Nines was thrusting back into him, the thick, heavy weight of Nines’s cock dragging over his tongue. “Knew you’d feel good,” Nines rumbled, lifting a brow at him. “Like I said--prettiest model. They couldn’t resist making you the prettiest fuck either, could they? And look at you. You’re not even fighting back. You like this, don’t you?”

With a scathing, warning glance, Nines pulled his thumb out of Connor’s mouth. He barely glanced at the thick, clear solvent left on the digit before wiping it across Connor’s cheek, then fisted both hands in his predecessor's hair. “You like the fact that I’m going to take you, whether you like it or not.” He moved forwards half a step. 

“Open up, cockslut.”

The even, steady, relentless thrusting changed. Using his grip on Connor’s hair as an anchor, he slammed into Connor’s mouth. He fucked into him, sheathing the entirety inside--gave a low groan when the tip of his cock hit the back of Connor’s mouth, then slid down into his throat, nose pressed to the wiry synthetic hairs at the base of Nines’s cock. Connor had never wished for a gag reflex before, having had no need for it--but he wished for one now, wished to mess up the scene that Nines had so obviously figured out long before he’d caught up to him. 

There was nothing he could do but _endure._ He had to wait it out; he had to let Nines slide into his throat again and again, had to let Nines take him, do whatever he wanted, just to get out of this _alive._ After all, Connor knew, fucking him was not part of Cyberlife’s orders. 

If he let this happen, maybe he’d finally get through to Nines.

Nines drove into him then, and stayed there. He kept himself sheathed down Connor’s throat and slid his hands down, cupping Connor’s cheeks to pull his gaze up, forcing him to meet his cruel, heartless gaze. “You know the best part of being a machine?” Nines asked, low and dangerous, the dim light throwing sinister shades over his face. “I can come all over that pretty face and still have the chance to fuck you properly, like the good bitch you are.”

Connor didn’t have a chance to do anything before Nines went back to fucking his mouth. A blue tint was starting to flush down Nines’s cheeks and neck; only the threat from before kept Connor from biting down, from pulling away, from fighting. 

Nines’s noises, small and quiet though they were, grew in frequency, in volume. He grunted and huffed, cold blue eyes watching Connor as his cock disappeared into him again and again. The closer he got, the faster he went, speeding up until the solvent in Connor’s mouth had made a mess of his face, dripping off his chin and to the tiled floor. The display of components stayed steady in Connor’s vision--until, with a few particularly hard, snapping thrusts, Nines released a rumbling moan and came.

The proportions on the readout changed, accounting for the sticky, thick come filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. Nines hadn’t forgotten his promise either; he pulled out from Connor’s mouth entirely and held his own cock still, watching as it twitched and shot two, three spurts over Connor’s cheeks and nose, blue-tinted white dripping slowly, obscenely down his face. 

Shame burned through Connor’s processors. He shut his mouth, jaw sore from the held position; his eyes followed suit, and he was blessedly given a moment to recuperate, Nines’s eyes roving over him, the smugness practically rolling off of him. 

“You know,” Nines hummed at length, prompting Connor to open his eyes again. “I just liked calling you a cockslut. I didn’t actually think you _were_ one. But you are, aren’t you?”

He slid a thumb through the come on Connor’s face and stuck it in his own mouth, licking his release from his skin. Then, without warning, he grabbed the ropes around his chest again and hauled him up, dangling him a few inches from the floor before setting him on his feet properly. He held the rope; his other hand abruptly pressed between Connor’s legs. Connor swallowed, heat burning through his face, no doubt turning him an equal shade of blue as Nines as the other android found exactly what he was looking for--his cock, hard and straining against his borrowed jeans. 

Nines leaned down a few inches. It was difficult not to turn his face away from that sharp, knowing gaze. “You like this,” Nines purred. “One of Cyberlife’s most advanced models, and you’re turned on because your successor is taking advantage of you. You really _are_ a cockslut.”

Connor pulled his lip off his teeth, sneering at Nines. “Fuck you,” he hissed.

His only reply was an amused huff. Then, using his grip, he forced Connor to turn and grabbed his wrists from behind, slamming him down over the edge of the table. Connor had to turn his head to the side, cheek against the cool wood, to keep his face from being smashed against it. Like everything else, Nines didn’t hesitate or wait. He kept Connor pressed face down and reached around with his other hand, swiftly opening up Connor’s own pants. He shoved them down, then shoved his knee between Connor’s thighs, kicking his feet out for a wider, lower stance. “Gonna make you wish you never deviated, RK800,” he purred. 

Keeping his knee pressed between his legs, Nines used his free hand to ruck Connor’s shirt up as far as he could, then slid down over the back--leaving the synthskin to ripple and blur in response to his own bared hand. It sent a curious sensation through Connor, like sparks up his spine. He bowed his back, tensing, like if he just tried hard enough, he’d be able to simply phase through the table itself and get himself free. The hand continued down, tracing his curves, sending that thrill through other parts of him, over his hips and along his thigh and then back up. Nines bent over him, using more of his weight to keep Connor still--and found exactly what he was looking for. 

He pressed a finger into Connor’s tight hole. It, like his own cock, had been included for reasons purely only known to the Cyberlife technicians that designed him. The best of everything, Connor had hypothesized--the best of police models, the best of military models, the best of sex models, all rolled into one, just because they could. Whatever the true reason, however, it didn’t stop this--didn’t take away the heat that was coursing through his circuits, the _want_ that had him hard against the edge of the table and his passage slick, the handy internal lubricant system activated. 

Nines leaned even further, till his lips were brushing against the nape of Connor’s neck. “I’ll spare you the comment about being wet as a whore for me,” he murmured, simulated breath fanning over Connor’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m sure you already know.”

He only slid the finger in and out a few times before adding a second. Connor huffed a little at the stretch. It wasn’t bad--didn’t really hurt yet--but he could have used a little more time before this. Somehow though, he doubted Nines was really aiming for his comfort. Nines thrusted his fingers in and out of him, scissoring them open, coaxing the slick passage to open wider for him. Eventually, a third finger joined, and Nines bit down on Connor’s neck. He sucked a dark mark, blue rising to the surface, before doing the same to a few other spots, running up near Connor’s ear and all the way to the neckline of his shirt. Unbidden, a little moan fell from his lips--and he felt Nines grin against his skin. 

“There you go,” Nines coaxed, spreading his three fingers inside him, sending Connor gasping, shuddering, hips twitching forward. “Give into it. Poor little deviant RK800, having to think. Let me fix you. Let me take you, make you stop thinking for awhile.”

Connor’s mouth hung open and he found himself panting. His flush had grown, spreading down his throat. Nines slid his hand up from the ropes at his arms to instead curl his fingers around his neck, following that flush, and _pulled._ A keen left him and he didn’t fight it, dropping his head back as Nines supported him, held him up by the delicate part of him. 

The fingers disappeared. Connor’s eyes fluttered; he whined, unable to stop it, but before he could do something like _beg,_ Nines was there, stepping fully between his legs, the tip of his cock teasing at his entrance. He held still for just a moment. “You’re _mine,_ RK800,” Nines said, his voice a rumbling growl. “You belong to _me._ ”

He slammed in.

Connor cried out. His hands opened and closed against his back but he could do _nothing_ , nothing at all, as Nines set a brutal, rough pace. He felt so fucking _full,_ every inch of him filled up, split around Nines’s cock. The other android gripped his waist, holding him still as he fucked into him, slamming him again and again against the table until the poor thing creaked and protested, rocking forward a fraction with every hit. 

“Say it,” Nines snarled, slapping the curve of Connor’s ass, making it bloom bright blue. “Say you’re mine.”

Connor shook, held up only by the hand around his throat. “I-I…”

Another hit, dragging a cry from Connor once more. “Say it,” Nines demanded.

A hiccup caught in his throat; he fought the burn behind his eyes, overwhelmed, on his tiptoes to keep up with every thrust into his body. “I-I’m… I’m yours,” he managed to say, rough and tight and quiet. 

Another slap. “Louder.”

“Y-yours…! I, I’m yours!”

Nines grabbed his ass, pulling the cheek to the side to fuck harder into him. “That’s right,” he confirmed. _“Mine.”_

It was getting to be too much. Connor closed his eyes; cleaning fluid fell from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks, joining the slowly drying come on his face. Heat was coiling inside him, tighter and tighter. As if sensing it, Nines dragged his hand back up his body, joining the first hand, wrapping firmly around his throat. He squeezed; Connor’s lips fell open wider, breathing cut off, warnings popping up on his optical display, red and brilliant. The thrusts got harder, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room, wet and obscene. 

Nines tightening his grip. More warnings appeared. Connor couldn’t stop the sob that wracked through his chest; Nines leaned to the side, dragging his head to meet him. He kissed the other android, lips and tongues and teeth, messy and rough and demanding. He bit Connor’s lip when he drew away, then put his mouth back next to his ear. 

“Come for me, RK800.”

Pleasure slammed over Connor. He howled, shaking, tremors running through his frame as he came, cock twitching against the table, his release coating the tiles. Nines kept going, his pace turning animalistic, brutal. A notification popped up along with everything else, the cut off breathing making his internal temperature start to rise. Then, before it could get dangerous, Nines slammed as deep inside him as he could manage.

He groaned, loud above Connor as he came, filling him up. Connor let his weight rest in Nines’s hands, practically melting under the other android, humming at the sensation of Nines’s come left inside him--the way it dripped out around Nines’s cock and down his thighs from the sheer amount of it. 

Nines slowed, then came to a stop, buried inside him. The grip on his throat loosened, then fell away eventually, gently laying Connor’s face to the side, giving him the chance to rest against the table. Gentle fingers brushed the dark curls from his face and when Connor managed to get his eyes open, he couldn’t help but give a faint smile at the crease between Nines’s brow. Nines pulled out of him, settled just a little from the smile, and moved to quickly untie the knots around Connor’s arms and chest. 

Once they were free, he put the rope aside and gently laid them down straight on either side of his predecessor. “Alright?” he asked quietly, rubbing gently up and down the appendages, easing the synthetic muscles, rolling the joints with care. 

Connor hummed. “Very alright,” he said, his pants slowly stopping as his internal temperature returned to normal.

Once Nines was sure he’d helped enough with Connor’s arms, he gently guided him up, sliding an arm around his waist to support him as he tugged the shirt over his head. Then, with the same mindfulness, he helped the both of them over to the couch, where a few blankets were already laid out and ready to be used. Nines laid him down, stripped himself entirely, and then laid beside Connor, tucking him between his chest and the couch’s back as he tugged a blanket up over the both of them. He touched their foreheads together, and Connor took advantage of it, leaning his head up to steal a gentle, slow kiss. 

“You did great,” Connor reassured, reaching up to ruffle Nines’s hair gently. “Thank you. That was… That was exactly what I wanted.” 

Finally, the crease started to ease. Nines hummed, using the edge of the blanket to wipe the remnants of tears and come from Connor’s cheeks. “Glad you enjoyed it,” he murmured. He fidgeted just a little; Connor smiled a little wider. They were still working on Nines being more open, more emotionally vulnerable. He himself felt fine, but he knew that Nines was concerned about aftercare, and so he let the other android fuss, checking his throat, running his hands along the slight blue lines that the ropes had left behind. It was worth the wait though, because Nines eventually leaned in to kiss him himself, then his cheeks, over each eyelid, and one more on his lips. “Love you,” Nines mumbled.

Connor slid his arms around him, tugging them impossibly closer. He snuggled right in, pressing his own kiss to the curve of Nines’s collarbone. “I love you too,” he returned, soft and sincere. A moment, then he chuckled. “When we wake up, we’ll have to clean the kitchen, though. I don’t think Hank and Sumo would like to come back from helping out with the DPD’s rookie training camp to see all _that_.”

The reminder was definitely worth it for the way Nines glared at him, nose scrunched up, disgruntled.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic? [Come send me some prompts!](https://puppy-prose.tumblr.com/)


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